Well I have a lot on my mind so I'm just going to keep typing and we'll see what comes out.
I have been dealing with some of my loneliness by going out and talking to strangers. I met "Mayor Marmaduke" at the Davis Square station tonight. He told me he liked my shoes, and that in his native Senegal, everyone piles on a bus and talks together and that it's too lonely to ride the T without someone to talk to. So we went ahead and piled on the T and talked together, and it was lovely.
I met another new friend tonight, too. We went out for a beer and then watched Becket, a 40 year old film I could have sworn I'd seen before but never had. It was really moving: a tragic love story, really. My friend, not familiar with Western history, kept saying it was a comedy and I was like, "Um. I don't think so. I really don't think so. I mean, maybe, but that would be pretty creative." There were some funny moments in the beginning but in the end it was as I thought. Some good heart-wrenching moments..."My heart! My heart! It is my heart! It is too fond! Too fond!" It really hit home for me in a lot of ways: first, it made me nostalgic for the church of my childhood, and it was also a story of the misery wrought by conflicting loyalties. (not to mention frustrated love.) I don't write much about my experience with the Catholic church here as I know my family reads this blog and I love and respect them and their deep faith so much that I am always afraid to give them pain, but it is a real and ongoing issue in my life. I was so deeply religious as a child, and so convinced of my truth. My mother, knowing I was feeling down, recently wrote me a very loving letter. She ended it with "though you may have strayed from the cradle of your faith, you have never strayed from our hearts." Though I chose to take it in the spirit it was intended, it was still painful, at least before I had given it a lot of thought.
Sunday, I was sitting in meeting in a lot of pain. It was nearly a silent meeting, and I was able to center quite deeply, something that's been extremely hard for me for a very long time. As I sat, the words to a song I haven't sung in over ten years popped up in my mind.
I will come to you in the silence,
I will lift you from all your fear.
You will hear my voice,
I claim you as my choice,
Be still and know I am here.
Do not be afraid, I am with you.
I have called you each by name.
Come and follow me
I will bring you home;
I love you and you are mine.
I am hope for all who are hopeless,
I am eyes for all who long to see.
In the shadows of the night,
I will be your light,
Come and rest in me.
I am strength for all the despairing,
Healing for the ones who dwell in shame
All the blind will see,
The lame will all run free,
And all will know my name.
I am the Word that leads all to freedom,
I am the peace the world cannot give.
I will call your name,
Embracing all your pain,
Stand up, now walk, and live!
Do not be afraid, I am with you.
I have called you each by name.
Come and follow me
I will bring you home;
I love you and you are mine.
I didn't have all the words right, but it was close. I was deeply moved to have this song come to me at such a black, dry time. When I learned that song I was 14, visiting the Daughters of Saint Paul. I was sure I wanted to be a nun. I was secure in my knowledge of God's love. Squirreled away in a vacant nun's cell after a busy day of vocational activities, I'd sneak out of bed, past my snoring roommate in the middle of the night and secretly pad my way to the adoration chapel in my nightgown and kneel there for hours in ecstatic prayer. In fact, at that time my main objection to joining the order the moment I turned 18 was that the third Star Wars movie would not be out and I might miss it, being busy with nunly duties. If I had known then what I know now about the third new Star Wars movie, I might be writing to you from under a veil.
But I "strayed." Did I? I certainly wandered. I've certainly spent my time lost. I've traveled aimlessly through deserts in my time.
The specific words of that hymn touched the most broken parts of me. I sat there, lost in thought and memory for a long time, until I was sure that I was being led to share them. I felt a great pain. Never in my life have I felt less like singing. I was afraid I would not be able to deliver the message without bursting into tears. I shakily stood and sang the best I could, very low and very trembly. I was soon released, and sank down to my bench in gratitude and fatigue, shaken and still grieving, but at peace. I didn't cry until I sat down, and then not very much, though other sobs broke through the silence. I was disturbed for a moment, worried I had done the wrong thing, but I was assured. All of our tears were between us and God.
I have been nostalgic for my "cradle." And it was a cradle. I grew there. It is still a matter of pain to me that I cannot see any way forward to reconciliation with that church. I was driven from it by force, in miserable circumstances, but by the time I began to grope my way back towards God, I found that I could not reconcile my conscience and my revealed truth with certain matters of church teaching. Watching Becket struggle silently, in agony, with the contest between what he had been shown was right and his love for his king brought back to me all the pain of this conflict. It is a hard path, being rocked out of the cradle and onto the ground, expected to stand up, walk, and live.
My friend and I listened to some Leonard Cohen in the car.
Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in
Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love
Oh let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone
Let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon
Show me slowly what I only know the limits of
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the wedding now, dance me on and on
Dance me very tenderly and dance me very long
We're both of us beneath our love, we're both of us above
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the children who are asking to be born
Dance me through the curtains that our kisses have outworn
Raise a tent of shelter now, though every thread is torn
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic till I'm gathered safely in
Touch me with your naked hand or touch me with your glove
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love
Oh man.
I think I had more to say but I'm drying up. Good night, good morning, and good luck.
9 comments:
A couple of Meetings ago, someone said. Don't disregard ministry that doesn't appear to be right for you or directed at you as it may be God speaking to someone else.
Well the opposite has just happened with your song. Thank you, you have given me something I sorely needed. Thank you.
QuakerBear
Becket is one of my favorite films ... the other, in this vein is A Man for all Seasons. If thee has not seen it in a while, do try and see it. It has great uplifting moments ... on rule of law and faith, and ... well ... it is just wonderful.
Nuns... Lilies of the Fields came back to me, at a time when we have been struggling over our fear as a meeting to address proper guidance over the school. We've been making great strides, but, many Friends wish to cut the school loose, as they say we have been expending too much effort over the issues of the school.
I suddenly remembered Lilies of the Fields in the middle of the night, how Homer hears God's voice in the person of a thankless, often sharp German Mother Superior, who in his anger, he once refers to as "Hitler." At first he thinks he must to a small favor to be faithful, and is told, build me a chapel. Then he thinks it is enough to do this all by himself - following God's directions through his own ego ... then reluctantly, he realizes that the chapel must be build with him in community of others, and God allows him to place his name in the concrete, at the top of the steeple, where only he will know it is, a little shared appreciation between God and Homer ... and of course, today, one can't see that film without thinking of dear Bonnhoffer...
Maybe, put off A Man for all Seasons ... and see Lilies of the Field. Homer thinks he is a loner ... but finds he is part of God, and part of Gods community of love - with all its rough edges from the priest in the film who drinks, to the lapsed Catholics who come to build the church - saying they are hedging their bets, in case ... but, are really putting their hands to the work of their hearts, they could just as easily know it was a church, meetinghouse or synagogue which God calls them to help build (one reason Homer is a Baptist, not Catholic in the film).
Family, faith and institutions are hard. My father and mother became very angry at our Meeting ... but, we had a lot of room for common ground. I think I am right in saying, if your Mum's reading this, that thee has inseverable love for thy family. And, that thy different growth, is not judgmental of the deepest part of Catholic faith, coming to God - sometimes in humility, sometimes in anger, sometimes in wonder, sometimes in frustration, sometimes in laughter ... but always remembering that God is in our every breath, and even in our every pain, and always with a promise of joy. We might have, sometimes to relearn acceptance of God's joy, but it is always there for us...
Speaking of faith -- the CD is in the mail ... it really is! I think thee will really like Alexis' CD, and hope, one day thee can hear her up close.
Thine, in frith and fFriendship
lor
Amanda,
You know where I come from. As it happens, I disagree with your mother, although I appreciate her sentiment and know how painful this all must be for her. But I don't think you strayed very far. I don't honestly think you have ever left.
Even if you never formally re-enter the Church or reconcile with Her teachings, you will never cease being Catholic. It rings out from everything you write. Like Graham Greene, who was never comfortable in the Church and never comfortable outside it, or Oscar Wilde, who flirted with Her his entire life, as much as his life contradicted Her, or any of a number of brilliantly conflicted souls.
You are my sister still. And always.
Your writing speaks to me in so many different ways. The song you sang at meeting was a song that also spoke to me in my youth; I grew up as part of a Roman Catholic Charismatic community. And the feelings I could not talk myself out of as a child- being a second class citizen because I was a woman, being valued only for my womb, never being able to say Body of Christ because of my gender - have all come into the Light in my journey with Friends and are coming into the Truth of the Spirit of Christ. My faith is the faith the Inward Light has revealed to me, the one the Holy Spirit has breathed Life into for me. I pray that you will continue to find someone, or somewhere, to bring into the Light your struggle with the Catholic Church. I honor your choice not to bring pain to your family by airing that on your blog. I pray you will also find a way to lessen the pain of this issue in yourself. Forgive me, please, if I am being too bold. I often find myself amazed at my anger toward the church of my youth ; a church that did help me to know a Living God. "It is a hard path, being rocked out of the cradle and onto the ground, expected to stand up, walk, and live." Your honesty in walking this path inspires me.
PS - check thy email... just sending thee a link to Ryan and Molly's wedding site, in case it brings thee a smile...
=)
Dear everyone,
Thank you for your comments.
QuakerBear, I am am so glad that "my" song traveled all the way over the internet to you when it could do you good. It's a very healing song.
Lor, Consider The Lilies is one of my favourite films. I've been meaning to re-watch it, it might be a very ripe time for it.
Kate, your comment made me cry. Thank you for your love. And I've been meaning to pop over to your blog and say congrats on the upcoming wee one and other things.
Anj, I am sorry for your pain, and mine. There are so many ways to turn wrong on these hard paths, so many false guides and broken signposts, though I think in the end we are always led home, like the song says. Sometimes I guess it's just not the home we were expecting...
By "Consider The Lilies" I mean "Lilies of the Fields" of course. And I meant to say that I got my Enlish history mixed up and when we went to watch Becket I thought we were about to watch A Man for All Seasons. Shame on me!
I understand. Even though I'm fully committed to my new faith my mom still insists I'm Catholic. I don't try and convince her she's Quaker, but maybe she sees it as a rejection of her? I don't know.
I hope you are able to find some peace tonight, maybe from your talky bird. :)
Today I spent a lot of time waiting for nothing to happen on the street with the camera, one of the only days I didn't raise the camera once ... so, Saint Thomas Moore was on my mind ... and thee and thy Mum, who I feel I know through the goodness of her blog.
Thomas Moore, (A Man For All Seasons) was a minister to Henry the Eighth, who refused to take an oath to the new church, as he was a devout Catholic. The film is full of my favorite quotes on law and on faith... , when asked to take an oath in support of the act of secession creating the power over the church of England in the King, to sign the oath for the sake of fellowship, Thomas replies, " and when we die, and you are sent to heaven to heaven for doing your conscience and I am sent to hell for not doing mine, will you come with me for fellowship?
The difference between I believe it, and I believe..., is paramount in this story. I so wish that there were a film, the like of Man for All Seasons about Mary Dyer. I think, both in the sight of God, are what is called a Saint, though we Friends don't often speak of Saints...
To be able to treasure in each other the adoration of faith. I am not sure Henry Tudor was a man of faith, he was a man of institutional power. But, I have met people of great faith who grew up in his church. His church, has become an avenue of faith, even if the cornerstone was laid on the institutional desires and plans of Henry.
That Protestants might execute a man, once a friend because he followed his faith while loving those his friends ... what lesson do we learn from Saint Thomas Moore? Is it only a lesson to faith to Catholicism? Or, did Mary Dyer follow the same path as Saint Thomas? Truth being her authority, not authority her truth. I think, thee, Amanda, follows the truth of the common faith between thy parents and thee, but not the authority of the institution of that church over thy soul. Thine own church, in Saint Thomas Moore teaches thee that God sometimes tries the faith of our souls to follow God past the institutions of churches, to follow Gods words to our own souls. Why this is part of the great mystery of God's plan, to put in a family a tower of Babel and ask us to be true to family, true to God, while we answer to that voice of God in each of us directly as did Saint Thomas Moore and Mary Dyer.
Perhaps God gives us the intent to create institutions in a constant lesson about Babel. To learn to love Him and each other, in spite of the divisions of our institutions, and retain a common faith. This might be the core of the Sainthood of Thomas Moore.
Oh, I so pray, that thee and thine could hold Saint Thomas between thee in such commonality to celebrate the manner God speaks to both of thee equally. Maybe, in the absence of a good film about Mary Dyer ... seeing A Man For All Seasons together, along with Lilies of the Fields ... remembering that Homer remains a righteous Baptist among righteous Catholic nuns, to carry out the will of God, together, each in direct obedience to God's will. Institutions are made by mortals to try and do God's will, but our souls, God gives us to answer to as individuals as Mary and Thomas did ... even in the face of giving up all, but love.
Post a Comment